


Holidays with the Sellswords

by scratchedagain



Category: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Roughly Sellswords era, kind of silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scratchedagain/pseuds/scratchedagain
Summary: Two short snippets of Jarlaxle and Artemis during the Christmas holidays.





	1. Early December

Jarlaxle had really been enjoying the holiday season – his first since deciding to travel the surface. The opportunity the season afforded him to decorate Bregan D’aerthe’s headquarters in the most colorful and lavish fashion had been too good to pass up. While many of his soldiers had taken the opportunity to work on literally _any_ project outside their leader’s immediate vicinity lest they find themselves wrapped in tinsel, he’d been having an excellent time of it.

Now he wandered about the Target closest to the apartment he shared with Artemis Entreri, looking through the decorations to see if he could find something to sneak past the assassin – the human had flat out refused to allow Jarlaxle to decorate the apartment. “Looking at you every day of the year is enough of an eyesore. I’ve no desire to put up with it in my living space,” he’d growled at the very suggestion. The mercenary had ‘compromised’ by coating every inch of their balcony in gaily colored, twinkling lights, along with any windows he could get to (which was all of them – Artemis had yet to find a lock that could actually keep the drow out of his room). Artemis had frowned mightily at the sight and closed all the blinds but he hadn’t attempted to strangle the mercenary and the lights were still up. Jarlaxle had counted that as a win.

Still. He been hoping to put up _something_ inside. He wandered aimlessly through the holiday section a while longer before stopping in front of a display of Santa hats. They came in several different colors – from the traditional red and green to some that were striped like candy canes, even several blues. His grin nearly split his face at the mental image of the grumpy human in such a hat and he decided immediately that he’d find a way to make it happen. He grabbed a red one for himself, then pondered which of the others might be best for his curmudgeonly partner.

The man in question quietly walked up to him a moment later, looking as if he’d suffered several days of torture as opposed to a few hours of shopping. He looked at Jarlaxle’s gleeful face and flinched – such an expression never boded well for him. The drow smiled at him and waved at the display.

“Would you rather have a green hat or a red one?”

“Neither!” Jarlaxle chose to misunderstand that response and pointed at the others. “There are blue and candy cane striped ones if you prefer, though red and green are traditional and -”

“Jarlaxle!’ The assassin interrupted him with a growl. “I do not want a hat.”

“Oh come now Artemis, they are so festive!”

“No.”

“Artemis. Surely it would not be so great a trial to wear a hat for the holiday.”

“No.” The human had clearly decided he’d already had enough and began walking away.

“I’m getting you a hat!” Jarlaxle called after him, but the man kept going and soon had turned around a corner. The drow huffed and pulled out his phone to text him.

_-If you do not wish to pick a color, I shall happily purchase one of every color I can find for you so you do not have to decide. I’ll even get you a rack to display them on!-_

 He waited a moment to see if the assassin would respond. When he didn’t the mercenary began sending a slew of one word texts consisting only of the human’s name, an annoyance he enjoyed exacting upon his friend so much that he’d actually created a shortcut to make doing so easier. Artemis still had not responded after several minutes, so the drow sighed and put his phone away. He returned to contemplating the hat display, wondering if there might be a way to glue one to the other male’s head without losing his hands in the process. A few moments later though, Artemis returned, a coffee in hand. Jarlaxle arched a brow at him.

“I messaged you! Is your phone on silent again?” The human pulled out his phone (silenced, of course – he’d been traveling with the drow long enough to know doing otherwise was a recipe for a constant migraine) to see notifications for 117 new messages. He glared up at Jarlaxle.

“You said once that you had been to the Nine Hells. What would it take to send you back?”

“Oooh!” Jarlaxle clapped his hands together excitedly. ‘”I could get one for Lady Lolth! What color do you think she’d like?” It took everything he had not to burst into laughter at the confused look on Artemis’s face, but he managed, just barely. The human stared at him a moment, glanced at the hats, and then turned a smirk on the drow.

“I suspect she’d like one made of your fool hide.” Jarlaxle laughed and nodded agreeably.

“Oh, certainly! But I think she might also look quite fetching in the red, so I shall go with that instead.” He grabbed another red hat solely for the sake of the joke, then turned back to Artemis.

 “Now, which would you prefer?”

“I don’t want a hat!” The assassin’s glare returned with all of the fury of the sun. Jarlaxle fired back an equally blinding grin and pulled another hat off the rack without even looking, to proudly display it in front of him.

“Green it is! We shall match!”

He dodged Artemis’s phone as it came sailing at his head – the human was constantly having to replace them for that very reason – and hustled his way to the registers before his friend could stop him. Jarlaxle wasn’t yet sure _how_ he’d get the assassin to wear the silly hat, but he was sure he’d figure something out. He always did.


	2. Christmas Day

Snow muffled the air around Jarlaxle as he walked back to the apartment he shared with Artemis. It wasn't exactly picturesque - the bulk of the snow had fallen the day before and since been made filthy by the city life - but it still made for a calm sort of atmosphere Jarlaxle appreciated. It had been a long few weeks for him.  The holiday season was practically unknown to the drow, and those few who did know of it hardly felt the need to spend the time celebrating peace and joy.

    " _Pieces_ and joy, more likely," Jarlaxle muttered as he rubbed his hands along his bare arms. The inter-house warfare through which Bregan D'aerthe garnered much of its wealth had reached a fever pitch through the season, requiring both he and Kimmuriel’s constant presence in the drow city and culminating that night in a four-way battle between houses that the mercenary band had played perfectly. Jarlaxle was thrilled with the band’s efforts - and the profits! - but really wished these things could occur in the same time zone he happened to be in.  Constantly switching locations was exhausting.  He really wanted a nap.

    The drow adjusted his bright red Santa hat - wrapped in tinsel with little bells hanging from the tassel - as he walked the last block to the apartment. He could see light shining through the windows, which meant Artemis was up and about. Tired as he was, the thought of spending the entire day with the always irritable assassin didn't appeal to him as much as it normally did. He sighed as he reached the door.  A small part of him had hoped that he would get to experience the togetherness humans so readily associated with the holidays.  His human friend had dashed that hope rather harshly right at the start, stating that he had never celebrated them before and saw no reason to start, leaving Jarlaxle disappointed.  He stood there in front of the apartment door, musing on his unusual melancholy, until the door quite suddenly opened.  He stared a bit as Artemis looked at him curiously.

    "Good morning!” said Jarlaxle, his characteristic grin not quite as strong as it usually was.  Artemis frowned at him a bit, clearly noticing the difference.

    “ ‘Morning,” he said, and handed the drow a mug.  Jarlaxle looked down at it and took a cautious sniff. It was hot chocolate. He looked up to thank Artemis but the man had already walked back into the main room.  The drow followed slowly, toeing off his boots and sipping at his drink. As he entered properly the smells of breakfast reached his nose and his eyes widened as he looked into the living room.

    It was decorated! On the coffee table stood a small tree that looked to be made from the green hat Jarlaxle had bought for the assassin. It had cost him a year’s worth of coffee to get the human to wear it long enough to snap a single picture, but now it stood proudly with tinsel wrapped around it, ornaments hanging from the bright strands of silver. Garlands had been wrapped around the edges of the table, along the backs of the sofas and along the kitchen’s eat-in counter. The drow grinned, truly this time. The decorations were almost certainly stolen from one of Jarlaxle’s many shopping trips but he’d never been so pleased to be a victim of theft. Artemis had decorated!

    He turned to the man in question. The assassin was at the stove, finishing up what looked to be eggs. On the counter between them were several platters already piled with food and as the drow walked over, Artemis turned off the stove and dumped the eggs on a plate of their own. He waved at the food.

“Eat.” Jarlaxle blinked at him, wondering what had prompted such a change of heart in the man. He shook his head a moment later, and filled a plate with food. Ambling over to the small sofa next to the decorated coffee table, he plopped down with a sigh. His hot chocolate balanced on the sofa arm beside him, he dug into his breakfast. It was good - Artemis wasn’t a world class cook by any means, but he’d proven to be quite adept at simple, hearty meals. The human sat down at the other end of the sofa and they ate in companionable silence. Jarlaxle was soon satisfyingly full. He finished off his hot chocolate in one final gulp and set his dishes to the side on the table. Propping his feet up, he leaned comfortably back, the stress of his work with Bregan D’aerthe fading to be replaced by a pleasant drowsiness. He gestured vaguely at the empty plate before him.

“I hadn’t expected this of you.”

“You looked… disappointed, when I said I had never celebrated the holidays. It occurred to me that you certainly would not have before now. I… re-considered my stance in light of that.” Artemis replied, shrugging. The drow nodded his thanks.

“It is much appreciated, my friend!” He stretched broadly before settling further into the couch. “I had thought you completely unwilling to participate at all, given your attitude toward the hat. This is quite the pleasant surprise.” The assassin put his own plate on the table to better cradle his cup of coffee. He looked as if he was deciding how best to respond before shrugging again.

“Frivolity and good cheer are not my strong suits.” Jarlaxle snorted gleefully.

“No! I had no idea!” Artemis smirked at him and reached across the couch to smack at the drow’s hat. The bells attached jingled merrily as Jarlaxle continued to chuckle, pleased to see an answering twinkle in his friend’s normally cold eyes. They sat quietly together, the drow growing progressively drowsier. He stared out the glass doors leading to their balcony through nearly shut eyes. Sunlight had broken through the snow to light the morning but the outside world was still quiet yet. He eyed Artemis from the corner of his eye and wondered exactly how far the man’s good cheer would stretch.

“I feel I should warn you,” he said through a yawn, “I am tired enough to contemplate using you as a pillow, should I sit here much longer.” The assassin cocked a brow at him and rolled his eyes, standing to collect their dishes. He walked in to the kitchen where Jarlaxle could hear the clinking of dished being washed and returned a few minutes, sipping at a fresh cup of coffee. The mercenary’s survival instincts were far too strong for him to be able to outright fall asleep there in the middle of the living room, but he was seriously contemplating giving it a go anyway before his sleepy thoughts finally sputtered to a quiet halt. His mind managed a wry _to the hells with it_ before he proceeded to fall onto his back along the couch, resting his head on Artemis’s leg. The assassin tensed as he moved but as the drow only threw his legs over the arm of sofa, crossed his arms over his bare stomach, and continued to gaze out the windows, the human slowly relaxed. He gave a resigned sigh, moving only to flick Jarlaxle’s ear.

“Happy Christmas, you insufferable drow.” Jarlaxle grinned.

“Happy Christmas, _abbil._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably unnecessarily sweet. Oh well!


End file.
